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Winning Entries (1): HarperCollins India’s short-story writing contest ‘In Write Spirit’ with #TNIEBengaluru.

We received some amazing entries for our short-story writing contest ‘In Write Spirit’ in partnership with  #TNIEBengaluru.

Five winners have been chosen and this is one of the winning entries!

 

Season with salt by Lakshana N Palat

Today, old Hindi songs are playing on the radio. I haven’t heard these in a while.
‘Mere sapnon ki rani kab aayegi tu…,’ I hum as I cut the onions. My eyes smart a little. I’m enjoying this little cooking spree. I’ve been a bit unwell lately, and it has been exhausting just lying in bed, waiting to get better. I don’t want to keep lying down, so I decided to make some chicken curry today.
I have kept the chicken in water for about thirty minutes. Now, I can start preparing the curry.
I have ‘finely chopped’ the onions as instructed and now, I turn my attention to the tomatoes. We don’t have too many left. I asked Dev to buy them, but he has forgotten, as usual.
Dev enters the house, sweating profusely. I think he took the stairs, and not the lift.
“There’s a lift for a reason, Dev,” I say with a sigh as I chop the tomatoes.
We need better knives, I think to myself.
Dev doesn’t answer. He throws his jacket on the table and takes a gulp of water from the bottle.
I am irritated. I have told him so many times to not drink straight from the bottle.
The garlic cloves have been chopped well, I think. Now I have to put them all in the pan.
Heat vegetable oil over medium-high heat; cook and stir onion, tomato, garlic, curry powder, habanero pepper, and thyme until onion is golden, about seven minutes.
I add the oil, and stir the onions, tomato, garlic and curry powder. I am a little sad that we don’t have pepper.
Dev’s phone rings. With shaking fingers, he answers it.
He leaves the room for a while. I can hear some intense muttering, but I don’t bother because I have to make chicken curry for dinner.
I have heated the ingredients for five minutes. Two minutes left.
It’s time to add the chicken.
Stir in chicken and cook until chicken is lightly browned, about five minutes.
I put the chicken pieces into the pan. I keep stirring. I need to mix it properly.
I pour myself a glass of water and fan myself. I hope Dev has paid the electricity bill at least, otherwise we won’t have power tomorrow. I doubt he has.
Pour water, reduce heat to low, and simmer until chicken is no longer pink at the centre, about thirty minutes.
I pour the water and reduce the heat slowly. The flames flicker.
Mera joota hai Japani is playing now.
The tomatoes, onions and garlic have all blended in well and there is a delicious aroma in the tiny kitchen. “Not bad, not bad,” I tell myself.
Dev comes out of the room after around twenty minutes.
“Di,” Dev says, several times. He paces up and down the room. I keep prodding the tomatoes.
Dev can’t seem to breathe properly.
I offer him a glass of water. He pushes it away.
He tries to say something, but can’t.
“What did you do now,” I say, stirring the pan.
The pan sputters.
“We need to go, Di, please,” he says holding me, with tears in his eyes.
I push him away gently. “It’s going to be alright. I’m making chicken curry tonight. That should keep you happy.”
“You don’t understand. We… I am in trouble…,” he whispers hoarsely.
There are rapid footsteps in the corridor and a sudden din of men’s voices.
The song Pyaar hamein kis mode pe from Satte Pe Satta is playing now.
They were at our door now.  “Down with him,” one of them says quietly.
Dev turns towards me, his face white with fear.
“They’re here,” he whispers.
“I know,” I say as I prod the chicken to see if it is pink.
It is pink. I had followed the instructions well.
Dev tries to hold my fingers. I carefully prise his fingers off mine.
He finds it hard to breathe. “Di… no…”
The men have entered our tiny apartment. I smile in relief.
Season with salt.


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